Paces
by MiiKirin
Summary: Oneshot. Kyouya's back from his business trip. Just another typical Ootori story. PostHostClub. KyouyaXHaruhi.


**Author's Note:** Ah... please be gentle? Thanks Kuro, for the correction. I thought I caught them all, too. XD

**ETA:** Fixed formatting. Thanks for the notice.

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**Pairing:** Kyouya/Haruhi  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Summary:** Kyouya's back from his business trip. This is read in Time-Turner fashion, as in it's written backwards but is meant to be like that so try not to be confused.  
**Word Count:** 868

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_v._

Sometimes, in the wee hours of morning, she thinks she has telekinetic powers. On the curtains, that is. They're smooth, white, and almost transparent, dangling prettily against the morning light and the ashy blue wallpaper. She likes watching the curtains in the morning. Her version of _zen_ or meditation or something crazy like that. It isn't that complicated. Just watching and not really thinking. _Move_, she commands, and sometimes the curtains will flutter, ballooning a bit before it descends again, sending a melancholy whiff of wind coursing through the room. The feeling of control makes her smile.

_iv._

It's best to lie still in the morning.

That's the most important lesson she'd learned coming into the Ootori household. She finds it strange that Kyouya insists on them sleeping on the same bed. A man who hates even the slightest sound and movement in the morning shouldn't be allowed to share a bed with anyone. But this is Kyouya, and there is no such rule. There's an element of possessiveness to this, she thinks, and likes to believe that he enjoys her company, although in the beginning stages of her adjustment she would _beg_ to differ judging by that irritated and dangerous glint in his eyes.

Now, she's a little more than used to it. It's good, she realizes, to wake up in body yet lie motionless and idle for the mind to catch up. It's a soft awakening and reentering into the conscious world and it calms her.

_iii._

It's anything but wild. Their movements are slow and paced, controlled and controlling as they writhe tension and struggle for power. His hands on her thighs drag up, skin pushing almost painfully against skin until they reach the flat of her stomach and he opens his palms. There's something oddly intimate about that feeling, but it's quickly forgotten as he stretches his hands and pushes them further up her body, higher and higher until –_oh god_— it's _there_ and her hands on his shoulders curl and bite into flesh. She can _feel_ the smile on his face and it makes her shiver. His breathing is soft and unlabored and it makes her want to hear it hitch—it does as she brushes her calves against his and his breath is strained in release as she trails them up his legs. The sheets around her are momentarily tense as he clenches his hands. In the dark, she feels triumphant.

It's her turn to gasp when she feels his fingers at her entrance. _Kiss me_ he says and she reaches for his neck to comply. He swallows her moans as he enters her but there's nothing, _nothing_ he can do to stop the soft mewling from her throat as he begins to move his hand. His thumb circles her clit and pushes it lightly, torturously. His other hand is at her breast, stroking and kneading and stroking again until she arches into him against all self control. And then they both know he has won. There is sadness as well as relief in the yielding and she allows him to pin her arms above her head with one hand—and that's enough to do so, _what were the odds of her winning anyway?_— and accepts his cock into her, only a moment of unhappiness at the loss of contact for the exchange. He kisses her eyes and she stops seeing, kisses her nose and slowly thrusts into her. _God_ she exhales and he kisses her mouth and she doesn't think she can trust herself to speak again.

_ii._

She lies on the bed, limbs positioned as if they belonged to a rag doll carelessly flung. Kyouya looms over her, arms propping himself up on either sides of her head. Her eyes are dark, open, and serene. _Fearless_. In the muffled beatings generated from the overhead fan they stare into each other, daring each other to continue.

"Well." She clears her throat after several beats. "This is certainly familiar."

He tips his head near unperceivably to the side and narrows his eyes in intrigue.

"No." He replies after a thought. "No, I think this time it's very much different."

"Oh?" She says, perfectly in time, her face expressionless except for a slight widening of her eyes.

"Yes." One syllable, and that's all he needs to say for her to reach up and lift his glasses off his face.

_i._

Haruhi is brushing her teeth when Kyouya walks into the bathroom connected to their master bedroom, which is as big as her former house. Her brows furrow slightly in irritation as he leans against the sink, watching the foam froth from her mouth.

"Go away." She says.

"No." He offers matter-of-factly and that was that.

She finishes with her teeth and starts on her hair. He stays where he is, the expressionless look never leaving his face.

"You just came back from a business trip," she reasons, "There _must_ be better things to do than watching me make myself somewhat presentable."

"No." He repeats and stand up, arms around her waist and face into the crux of her shoulder. "No" and she can only let the brush clatter to the floor.

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end. 


End file.
